Bravery

Hate is the Demon in the Dark, Creeping in to the Light. Disguised as Safety and Might.

/ Amanda N. Young / Leave a comment

Hate is the thing that thrives in disguise

Hidden behind righteousness

The cloak is Justice but it’s true face is Vengeance

Hate is the Boogeyman in the closet

The gun that thinks it’s name is protection

Familiarity may be a comfort

But it’s dark side is fear of what we don’t understand

Fear of the other

Bravery is not taking up arms against this other

But opening up our doors and taking a chance

Step outside with me and help me hold the torch

The most dangerous threat to society is not the stranger from outside

It’s the voice within ourselves that wants to build a wall

To guard against the Boogeyman

The other isn’t a demon. Or a thug. She is us. She may speak another language, know another world. She is alien and yet…ours. She is human. Her heart beats like mine. She is flawed like me. Beautiful.

Turn on the light. Open your eyes and our arms and see…

Hate is the thing that makes us harm ourselves.

The Daily Edit

/ Amanda N. Young / Leave a comment
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Gerald Young. Yosemite, CA. November, 2016

I remember thinking as a young kid that I didn’t want to lose my sense of wonder. That it was important to me to be as adventurous, curious, and brave as I was as a child. I wanted to hold on to that same person inside of me that would run out without fear towards the farthest boulder in the ocean, or climb as high as I could go. I try to remind myself of that person as much as I can. I have these small moments of felling like I desperately miss that girl who would leap without looking- I’m worried that something in me has fundamentally changed and now I step more carefully on to those sharp rocks, and maybe only climb as far as I can reach where someone else might also be able to reach me. At the same time, I do know that I am still that girl. I do still take big risks and trust (or just flat out hope) that I will land true. Sure there are more synapses developed in the part of my brain that tell me that I should probably look before I jump. I’m a little more cautious with my safety than I was as a reckless, fearless child. What I am leaping towards isn’t necessarily as straightforwards as the next big rock, the next highest branch. But ultimately, I often still jump. Sometimes with what feels like both hands tied behind my back. I leap even when it’s towards a lot of uncertainty, new places in my life both physically and metaphorically. I think one of the biggest differences in how I leap is that I am afraid more often. I am not fearless. It may look like it from the outside in, but I try to not be reckless. Yes I jump, but I think about it a lot before I do. A big part of that is that I am more aware of how my actions affect others. I am more considerate of the people who may worry for my safety. Who may end up coming after me. I think that over the years I have developed a fierce sense of gratitude for those people in my life. Who let me run on the rocks, but were behind me (probably freaking out because they had at least a bit of sense where I did not), and willing to jump after me if I needed. I am so grateful. Dear Dad, thank you for 31 years of letting me jump. 31 years of climbing after me. Happy 61st Birthday. I love you.